


Hopeless Romantic

by Enjambement22



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:49:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enjambement22/pseuds/Enjambement22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternative explanation of events that happened shortly before The Reichenbach Fall, and those of third season. Well, I just took some of their words and put them in a different context.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“What do you need?” asked Molly with a sense of great urgency. She had never seen Sherlock so vulnerable. The sight of his glassy eyes made her knees buckle but her mind raced - despite working mostly with the dead, she was still a woman of action and she wanted to know how to help the man she cared so much for. And then he said something that turned her into a puddle … with a racing mind. “You.” He can’t mean that, can he? No no, it must be just your expertise, silly girl.

He stepped closer, his eyes fixed on hers, and then his gaze moved to her mouth for a moment only to return to her eyes again, filled with such need she couldn’t take it anymore. She touched his coat and it was enough of an invitation for him. Sherlock grabbed her head with both hands, and crashed his mouth to hers. His lips were hot and dry and so needy … She opened her mouth to touch his lips with her tongue. He sucked on it greedily and their tongues danced until they both needed to come for air. He let go of her head, but rested his hands on her shoulders. Molly didn’t want it to ever end. It was just like her fantasy … maybe a bit more awkward but infinitely hotter at the same time. It was real. Even if it is just this one time … She burried her hands in his curls and kissed him. He responded as if it was a matter of life and death. Because it was.

“I need you,” he said the next time their lips parted to come for air. “I need you to help me carry out a plan.” Molly’s heart sank just a bit. “Mycroft will be here in about 15 minutes and we’ll discuss the details.” He leaned even closer to her and said in a lower voice: “But I needed to do this, in case we fail. I needed to know you  … care ... even if I’m not all that everyone thinks I am. I needed you to ... know me.” He planted a kiss on her hair and then just stood there, holding her so tight as if he was afraid she’s going to shatter if he let go. And she just might have.

“And Molly … “ It seemed he was trying to find courage to say it out loud. “I’m really sorry about all those terrible things I always said to you.”

“You really think you’re going to die, don’t you?” said Molly, trying hard to hold back her tears. Sherlock burried his head in her neck, inhaling the smell of her hair.

“He isn’t,” said Mycroft. “We’re going to stop that, brother dear. With the help of Doctor Hooper, if you two could just stop with the nonsensical adrenaline induced displays of affection. Now what would mommy say?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Sherlock's point of view upon coming home from his mission abroad and not being dead anymore.

Sherlock didn’t know if he was going to survive it, the fall and everything that happened afterwards. But then again, he never knew if he will live to see the next day. That gave thrill to his life, and that was an addiction. But this time he found himself wanting to live much more than he ever did before. The encounter with his own death made him re-evaluate what, and more importantly, who, really counted. He was used to avoiding his parents whenever he could, but this didn’t mean he wanted them to believe he was dead. They were rather normal parents, despite what any weekend-psychologist might think, and in his own way, Sherlock was undoubtedly fond of them, and he knew they loved him.

It was crucial that Watson thinks him dead. He indeed could keep a secret, but he wasn’t a good actor. He'd put himself and other in danger. He knew Mrs. Hudson would be devastated, but there wasn’t much to be done about that. Drug cartel husband or not, she would give any secret away much too soon, not even realizing it. He sort of enjoyed imagining how sorry Lestrade is going to be, for not believing in him.

But Molly knew. Knew he survived the Reichenbach fall, that is. Not that he informed her of his life afterwards. She might as well think he died in some God-forgotten hole on Earth right after she risked so much to save him as an accomplice in faking his death. Did she realise what were his true feelings? Probably not, since he behaved like a complete git from the first time they met almost until the end. But she believed he was capable of them, if only because she so desperately wanted him to be.

There was that weird thing with Molly. Yes, he needed her professional help, but he’d get that without even blinking. The kiss-thing wasn’t strategy, although  he sometimes tried to persuade himself it was. It was real. It was Sherlock's chemical defect. He thought about it often during his mission abroad. Sometimes lost himself in memories of her smell, taste, how fragile she felt in his arms, and how strong at the same time. It was kinda keeping him sane. Or rather, clean.

He knew Molly was a relationship-gal, meaning she would find a guy sooner or later. And he didn’t let her know that he was alive at all. To her he might as well be dead. And that was good. Even though she was clearly in love with him - as puzzling as it seemed - she would forget him now that he wasn't around her, with his constant crazy requests, snarky remarks about her looks and painful deductions of her love life. Yes, he was surely some great boyfriend material. It was funny how everyone seemed to fall for Molly despite her rather ordinary looks. He was sure she found someone, maybe even got married. He shivered at the thought. Of marriage in general, of course.

The truth was he really, really wanted to see her. But first, he needed to get things sorted with John. He was the one who suffered the most, believing his best friend died, but doubting it somehow at the same time. So Sherlock made an elaborate plan how to reveal himself to John. It was really, really stupid and really, really badly timed.

But John was John, he punched him and then he hugged him.

And then … Molly. She came immediately when he texted her, clearly not caring about how she looked, her eyes sparkling and … a big diamond on her finger. He saw that immediately, of course, even through her childish mittens. No, wait, that’s a lie. He saw that a fraction of a seconf after he saw a mixture of emotions in her eyes, her affection and trust clearly still there. Despite what everyone thought, he could read emotions when he wanted to. He didn’t prepare his speech or anything. He just asked her the first thing that came to mind … Instead of the thing he wanted to ask the most. He wanted to ask her so many things … and even more, hug her tightly, inhale her smell (she changed shampoo) and never let go. But that was out of the question now.

  
It was so strange of her to suggest they have dinner ...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What should've happend after Sherlock left John and Mary's wedding. ;)

Maybe she was just imagining it, but Molly was quite sure Sherlock looked at her intently when he said “You truly believed he was the one, the love of your life” to that poor woman. She was flushed and her heart nearly jumped out of her ribcage. But surely it must have been just a coincidence?

She felt his eyes on her, always when she wasn’t looking. When the parted he kissed her cheek, his beautiful lips curled in a small smile, but his eyes filled with melancholy. And oh god, it was the second most erotic kiss in her life. It melted her. He smelled like books and tobacco and cologne, and something that was unmistakably Sherlock. Maybe love was just an unwelcome distraction, a disadvantage even, to him, but maybe, just maybe, he could be feeling it anyway? For her?

No, no, that was not it. Attraction, maybe? If Irene, the sex goddess with almost impeccable brain couldn’t seduce him, how could mousy Molly with small breasts and thin lips, as he pointed out on many occasions, get him into bed?

But maybe she could … Just one time … He must need a … release ... sometimes. And he probably only avoided Irene because he could never trust her. Perhaps she could live her life peacefully if she just got to have him, just this once … Tiny part of her knew she was fooling herself. But it was worth trying, wasn’t it?

***

It was John and Mary’s wedding day. Molly knew Sherlock was going to be nervous because of his best man speech, maybe even emotional - weddings make everyone emotional, right? Even more so, if they are your best friend’s, right? Her only disadvantage was her wedding date, er, fiance.

She dressed nicely, like a proper modern english lady that she was. Her lingerie wasn’t all that ladylike and nice, though … She felt damn sexy in her newly acquired Agent Provocateur low cut black lacy bra and matching thong. The school teacher garden party dress was another story, but she sure knew how to pick her underwear. She didn’t wear perfume, but she massaged a very expensive and heavenly scented body lotion all over her pale skin, leaving it velvety soft and subtly scented. Her fiance smelled like boys’ high school locker room after shower. Axe or whatever that was. At least he had let her pick his coat ...

The wedding was exciting as anything that involved Sherlock. Also, her fiance made a fool of himself. She should dump him for it. But then again, he was a decent guy, and he said he loved her. And bought her a diamond ring! Not the kind she’d like, but a big, flashy diamond, worth a fortune.

They danced awkwardly. She saw John and Mary dance in a warm, dreamy embrace. She saw Sherlock, who danced really well, and with a beautiful girl, Mary’s friend. Janine, if she remembered correctly. She was tall and curvy, her smile flashy but warm. She could bed almost any man with that smile and that bust. Molly felt a pang of jealousy.

And then she saw Sherlock leave. Really early. “Who leaves a wedding early?” said Mrs. Hudson. Janine didn’t follow, she picked another dancer and she seemed to be enjoying herself like everyone else.  

“You’ll have to excuse me, dear,” said Molly to her partner, “I have to go to the loo.” She wriggled her way out of his embrace, and when he couldn't see her anymore ran out of the beautiful venue. She caught a glimpse of Sherlock, jumping into a taxi. Thankfully taxis were already aligned there, even though guest weren’t expected to be leaving the wedding yet. She ordered her cabby to follow him and texted Tom: “Ooops, got my period. Gotta go home --- for TAMPONS. You stay there and have fun! xo”. She knew this will stop him from following her home, since she was usually quite edgy at that time of the month and didn’t want to do anything with men, either. And Tom certainly didn’t want to do anything with tampons. They just barely caught Sherlock, and then his cab stopped. He disappeared into a park. Molly quickly followed. She ran, trying not to make too much noise with her clinking heels, but he was nowhere to be seen.

He suddenly materialized out of the dark, right in front of her, his lips pierced and eyes flashing with anger. “What are you doing here, Molly Hooper?” he said sternly. “A park is not a place where you’d want to be at this hour. Don't you think your partner is worried where you’d left?”

“I … I …” She soon recollected herself. “Sherlock. I followed you. And now you follow me.” He gave her a quizzical look. “Pardon me?”

She took his hand. Even that mundane touch was like a mild orgasm to her. It shot fire through her veins. She was aware of every cell of his skin on her. She almost dragged him out of the park and was relieved to see her cabby still there. “Oh, how nice … “ she began, but Sherlock cut her off: “Voyeur.” That word, uttered in Sherlock’s usual low baritone was like the most erotic thing she heard in a very long time. But then again, she would probably be turned on by him reading a phonebook… Yes, she definitely would.

“221B Baker Street” she ordered the cabby. Their legs were touching and then Sherlock withdrew his. Molly grabbed his thigh. “Don’t,” she said firmly, looking him straight in the eyes. And then her expression changed into a mix of doe and wolf when she said in a very small voice, with a hoarseness that melted all his resolve. “Sherlock, just this once ... please?” She didn’t have to say it, he knew. His eyes flicked her finger. She took her engagement ring off and left it on the seat of the cab. He took hold of her head and kissed her mouth so desperately it brought tears to her eyes. Also, he bit her unintentionally, but neither of them cared. She wanted to devour him, to climb on top of him, she wanted him inside her, his fingers, his tongue, his cock … and she wanted it all now! He didn’t dare move his hand from her face, as if he was afraid he’d tear her dress apart.  

They stumbled out of the car, leaving far too big a tip and an engagement ring behind, their hands clinging to one another. Sherlock practically jumped the stairs and Molly followed quickly, with only a clear thought in mind: rip those pants off and grab that perfectly perfect arse.

Sherlock stood awkwardly in the living room. He wasn’t sure how to proceed. But Molly was all decisiveness. She didn’t want to scare him, though.  “Sherlock,” she said softly. “I heard … rumors about you …”

“Yes, it’s true. I have not indulged in sexual activities previously. But I can se that doesn’t bother you.” He was doing his best acting all cool and self-confident. There was this little bit of insecurity in him … She found it unbearably cute.

“I researched the matter thoroughly at some point in my life,” he said in his usual fast paced manner, “but that didn't extend to practical experience, I didn’t find it interested me enough, and it seemed to be too disadvantageous at that time, since it may produce different sorts of feelings in others as well as in myself, and I prefer to shut down all feelings as they are a distraction to my thought process, as you now. But you … you feel ... feelings ... for me already. And I …”

Molly would identify his monologue as nervousness had it been anyone else, but Sherlock was … Her Sherlock. She relieved him from it by pressing her lips to his gently. He responded eagerly, sliding his tongue in her mouth which made her moan into him. He held her tighter, and she could feel his hardness against her belly. She helped him slide out of his tuxedo and feverishly unbuttoned his tight-fitting shirt. Finally her hands could slide across his slender, but muscular torso. He was carved like a ballet dancer or a climber.  He let out an involuntary sigh at her touch, unzipped her really quickly and slid her dress of off her. She was standing there, clad in her very much see through black lingerie and heels. He undid her bra without difficulty, which caught her by surprise, and then took a deep breath, as if he was unsure what to do next. She took his slender hand and placed it to her breast. “Tell me what do you want, Molly” he asked in a hoarse voice. “You,” she said and buried her fingers in his curls. “Only you.” He kissed her deeply and lifted her in his arms to carry her to his bedroom. Molly would have giggled if she wasn’t too excited to find anything amusing at all.

He kissed her all over her almost completely naked body, inhaled her subtle scent and looked intently at her between every action. “I love you … I mean, I love love love what you’re doing,” she whispered breathing heavily, “but I need you inside me, Sherlock, or I’m going to explode. I had four years of foreplay, you know.”

He took his pants off with slow elegant movements that drove her crazy when all she wanted was to get her hands on his naked butt as soon as possible, and his cock inside her.

She was prepared to take matters into her own hands, figuratively and literally. If he was really as inexperienced as he said he was, and she had no reason to think otherwise, it would be best for both of them to do it Molly’s way. She pushed him into the mattress and climbed on top. She kissed his torso, soaking in every little detail, his scars and bruises, his taste and scent, she moved down to his tight fitting boxers and slid her fingers underneath. He shivered at the touch and she took his boxers off to reveal his manhood. She guided him inside her, watching those beautiful pale blue eyes close as they both tried to contain their cries when they finally joined. He filled her so perfectly. She was on the verge of orgasm the whole evening, so it didn’t surprise her that it came so soon, and so very hard. But even on waves of immense, world-shattering pleasure she could tell he was surprised by it. He came in her while her vaginal muscles were still contracting around him. She collapsed onto his chest and listened to his heartbeat until it slowed down.

 


End file.
